


the laws of the universe

by theMightyPen



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, everything's the same except Betty's there, we're talking minimal tweaking, well not everything but most things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMightyPen/pseuds/theMightyPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betty Ross has never been one to sit idly by while the world changes around her; Bruce Banner or no Bruce Banner, it's high time she take control of her life.  </p>
<p>or, the one where Betty meets Pepper Potts, works at Stark Industries, and isn't ignored by the MCU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the Law of Action

**Author's Note:**

> So to be clear, this chapter covers post-Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, and the end of this chapter is about to bring in another Marvel movie/some very familiar faces :)

* * *

 

 

I defy the stars;

I defy Heaven and Hell.

The laws of the universe say that the man I love is lost to me.

I say:

Watch me save him.

 

 

* * *

 

There are a few things that Betty Ross knows to be irrevocably true.

Fact: a body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

Fact: DNA is made up of adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine, and the same chemicals repeat themselves in all other things.

Fact: her father is a manipulative asshole.

Fact: she has always been very, very bad at letting go of things lost to her.

So when Bruce vanishes again--poof, just like that--Betty does not fade meekly into the background, content to wait for him to reappear.

No, she takes her anger, her frustration, and her love and does what she should have originally done with the same feelings, years before. She will put herself out of the General’s reach and make it so that it will be Bruce that finds her, the next time, instead of the other way around.

First and foremost, she says goodbye to Culver. She’ll miss her students, and Leonard, and her favorite pizza place, but she can’t stay here anymore. For starters, there are videos floating around _everywhere_ of her and the Hulk, and it’s hard to teach a class with people pressed up against the windows, eager to get a peek at “that lady in the trench coat; I mean, did you see her _deck_ that one soldier?” But it’s more than that; Culver is where she met Bruce, where they’d had their first date, their first kiss, their first fight. Those memories follow her around like ghosts, shimmery through the spread of time but always, always present. She stares hard at every man wearing a baseball cap pulled down far, as if enough wishing will turn him into Bruce.

It’s not healthy and frankly, a little maddening when they all turn out to be no more than tourists.

Secondly, she says goodbye to Virginia in general. Nana passed away a little while back, Mama’s been gone for years, and the General...well, there’s hardly a reason to stay.

So she puts out job applications at universities and labs all over the country, praying like she hasn’t in _years_ that someone unaffiliated with the US Government will come calling.  

 

* * *

 

After months of waiting, after rejection after rejection after rejection, her prayers are answered by a phone call from a private number.

That gives her pause; though she’s cut ties with the General, Betty is under no illusions to the lengths he will go to keep her under his thumb, at least in some capacity.

“Hello?” She says tentatively.

“Hello, I’d like to speak to Dr. Elizabeth Ross, please,” comes a professional voice.

“This is she,” Betty answers.

“Oh, good. Dr. Ross, I wanted to speak to you about the application you sent into us at Stark Industries.”

Betty cringes; it had been a long shot at best. Stark Industries is known for their innovations in all things technological, along with their flamboyant and supposed superhero CEO. Her degree in cellular biology is out of place amongst engineers, architects, and weapons designers. But there’s no company--or name, come to think of it--that pisses the General off more, and after Stark Industries had ended their contract with the Army, Betty is fairly certain there could be no company less likely to sell her out to her father.

“Dr. Ross?” The voice jars her out of her musings and Betty flushes.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

“I was wondering when would be the most convenient time to meet with you to discuss salaries,” the voice says. “I understand you’re still in Virginia, but we would be more than willing to send one of the jets if you’d like to come to New York. Or we could meet somewhere in the middle; I’m really not picky.”

The world spins, once, twice.

“I--what?”

“I’d like to offer you a job, Dr. Ross,” there’s a note of amusement, now, but not scorn. “At Stark Industries we pride ourselves on working with the best minds in the country, and I’d hazard a guess that yours is among that number.”

“But--what would I even _do_ ?” Betty asks, mind reeling. “I’m hardly qualified to build a--a superhero suit or help manufacture futuristic _weapons_ \--”

“I think we’ve got both of those covered,” the voice interrupts, sounding less than cordial for the first time, “a little too well, in fact.”

“...alright. I...I could come to New York any time this week.”

“Perfect. Is tomorrow too soon?”

Betty looks around the room; her things are all packed, ready for whatever direction she goes in.

“Not at all.”

 

* * *

 

The plane is sleek and black and opulent in a way that Nana would have approved of, but that would have made the General grumble and huff about rich heirs and spoiled heiresses sticking their noses where they don’t belong.

Betty, however, thinks the plane’s just fine, especially when she’s given tea and asked half a dozen times if the temperature’s alright, if there’s anything else she needs.

She’s not quite sure _why_ Stark Industries is so interested in her; by all accounts, there’s no need for them to dabble in the more biological side of things; but she can hardly complain with how abysmally bad the job search is going otherwise.

(That’s the issue of being seen all over television in the midst of the destruction of Harlem; no one wants to hire anyone who had anything to do with the Hulk.)

She’s not quite sure _what_ to expect when she steps off the plane, but a serene strawberry blonde all in white is very low on the list.

“Dr. Ross?” She asks, extending her hand. “I’m Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she manages, hoping her confusion isn’t plain on her face.

It must be, or this Pepper Potts is exceptionally good at reading people, because she smiles and says, “We’ve had a bit of change with management recently. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“No, not at all,” and it’s not, really. It’s more mystery than anything, and Betty’s nothing if not curious.

Pepper Potts, as it turns out, is as efficient as she is professional. Betty is being considered for a sub-set of their science division, a new branch the company is looking to develop focusing on applications in biotechnology.

“As you may know, we’ve become somewhat of a frontrunner in robotics,” Pepper explains as she leads Betty through the incredibly extensive lab, “and with our departure from the weapons industry, there’s a big hole to fill as far as production goes.”

“And what are you looking to fill it with?” Betty asks.

Pepper stops, turning slightly to offer Betty a small smile. “Stark Industries has provided enough things to help hurt people. It’s time we make things that can help heal them instead.”

The Hippocratic Oath floats back to her, suddenly, though she hasn’t practiced medicine in years and is far from ready to stitch anyone up again. But helping design technology that can help people, keep them healthy and strong? She’s seen what war does, even when it’s inside one person, one family. Someone has to fight the good fight, if the traditional “good guys” won’t.

Yeah, that’s something she’s interested in.

“So,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “when do we start?”

 

* * *

 

She’s just settled into her tiny but exquisitely clean Manhattan apartment that Ms. Potts--”Please, call me Pepper, you have no idea how happy I am to have another woman around here”--helped her find when it arrives.

Leonard must have forwarded it to her, because she just signed her lease the day before, but that doesn’t stop it from appearing, innocuous and innocent-looking along with the rest of her mail.

It’s a white envelope, like any other. Addressed like any other. Stamped like any other.

The difference, of course, is its source; she’d know Bruce Banner’s cramped, spidery writing anywhere.

She has to sit down before she opens it; sit down and put her head between her knees to keep from screaming and making her new neighbors think that Bertha Rochester had moved next door.

With a trembling hand, she opens it.

“Oh,” she gasps, when she sees what’s inside. “Oh, _Bruce_.”

It’s her mother’s necklace. They’d pawned because they’d had to; Betty hadn’t regretted it for a second, Mama would have _adored_ Bruce, and besides, it was hers to decide what to do with, how to use its value.

The fact that he’d found it and returned it to her...oh, it makes her heart _ache_ with how much she loves this man.

There’s a short letter as well. She has to wipe the tears from her glasses three times before she can even open it, let alone read it.

_Dear Betty,_

~~_I know--_ ~~

~~_I’m sorry--_ ~~

_I had to get this back to you. I know how much she meant to you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you giving this last bit of her up. Not like that. Not for me._

_I’m somewhere safe now, out of (your father’s) the General’s reach. I hope you are, too. ~~I wish you were here--~~ _

_I’m learning to control him, Betty. Or trying to, anyways. Some days it’s easier, other days it’s not. Like all things._

_I can’t give you an address to write to; they’re probably tracking your mail and I’ll move again before you read this. But you should know that I’m thinking of you. Always._

_There’s so many things I wish were different. But one thing that doesn’t change is this: be happy, Betty. Please. You deserve that. You deserve more than that ~~even if I’m not the one to give it to you.~~ _

_I miss you. I snuck your lip gloss into my back pocket and sometimes the smell of it is the only thing that keeps me sane. Though thinking about it now, that doesn’t sound too stable._

~~_I hope--_ ~~

~~_I wish--_ ~~

_I can’t promise that I’ll ever see you again, but God, I hope I get to._

_I love you._

_Bruce_

She puts the necklace around her neck and locks the letter away in the nightstand. Some things just hurt too much to deal with every day; this is one of them.

 

* * *

 

The first time she meets Tony Stark, it’s entirely by accident.

She’s in the lab, later than usual, intent on working out the issue with the latest proposed invention--biorobotics are still more science fiction than true science, but then again, so were superheroes, super soldiers, and giant green rage monsters. If the latter could exist, why couldn’t the former?

Betty is so focused on the whirling vials that she almost misses the muttered cursing drifting down the hall. In fact, she’s sure she would have missed it entirely, if not for the sudden coppery smell of blood accompanying it. Startled, Betty sits up, leaning away from her work station. The lab is deserted as far as she can see, and while there may be some stragglers down in R&D, it’s unlikely that one of them would have cut themselves on anything other than a slip of paper.

“Hello?” She calls. “Anyone there?”

The cursing grows louder and she follows the sound, rounding the corner as quickly as she can.

“It’s after hours,” a voice says, sounding slightly pinched, “if you’re trying to get overtime, it won’t work. We’re notoriously tight with our money around here.”

Betty rolls her eyes; from day one Stark Industries has been entirely too generous with her, and she knows for a fact the company has one of the highest employee satisfaction rates in the entire country.

“I beg to differ,” she says, finally finding the source of the voice: Tony Stark, in the flesh. “Are you bleeding, Mr. Stark?”

“No. Maybe. A little.”

She steps closer, looking him over. “...judging by the fact that you’re not alarmed by the glowing cylinder in the middle of your chest, I’m going to guess that’s supposed to be there?”

“If I want to keep the shrapnel out of my heart, it kinda has to be, yeah,” he snarks, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers. “You’re the new doc Pepper hired. Elizabeth something?”

“Betty,” she answers. “Betty Ross.”

She’s not prepared for his reaction; his face morphs from carefully controlled mocking to open mouthed shock. “Dr. Betty Ross? As in the author of _Biology and Technology: the Human Machine_? Daughter of General ‘Great-Big-Bag-of-Dicks’ Ross?”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, frowning at the strange black discoloration of the veins around metal _thing_ in his chest. “That doesn’t look normal.”

“I think you’ll find normal’s not something I’ve ever really been good at,” he says. “Ridiculously charming, sure, devilishly handsome, of course, but normal...well, we’ve had a bit of strained relationship, normal and I.”

Betty doesn’t think she’s ever met a man--no, a human--who talks as much and as quickly as Tony Stark.

“It’s poisoning you,” she concludes, peering closer at the contraption in his chest, the dark veins around it, the strain of the tissue, fighting against something taking up their rightful space. “Whatever is in there isn’t helping you anymore, Mr. Stark.”

“Figured that out myself, thanks,” he groans. “And I think my being shirtless and fanboying over your thesis for the past six years kinda removes the need for formality. I’m Tony.”

She shakes his offered hand, smiling just a little. “Betty. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Tony nods towards where his shirt had been clearly abandoned and Betty passes it to him, still frowning absentmindedly at the obvious sickness before her.

“Is that why Pepper is CEO?” She asks abruptly, puzzle pieces fitting together in her mind.

Tony eyes her, clearly taken aback. “Pepper is CEO because she damn well should be.”

_There it is_ , Betty thinks, another puzzle clicking together. Pepper always talks about Tony with a thread of exasperation in her voice--who could blame her--but with an undercurrent of deep, deep affection as well. That same feeling is as plain on Tony Stark’s face as it is in his CEO’s voice and the realization is there, clear as day: they’re in love with each other, whether they know it or not.

“You’ll find no argument from me on that point,” Betty concedes, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “But...Tony, does she know?”

“Know that she makes a better CEO than I ever did?” He snorts a laugh, deflecting, deflecting, deflecting. “I would think so.”

She narrows her eyes at him in her sternest professor stance. “Does she know that you’re _dying_?”

Dark eyes stare into hers, pain and anger and sorrow clear in them. “No. And she can’t.”

Betty’s seen eyes like his before. In her father, after Mama died. In Bruce, after failed formula after failed formula. This is the man on the edge of self-destruction.

And she’ll be damned if she watches him burn.

Squaring her shoulders, Betty holds her hand out to Tony. “I’m going to help you. I don’t know how, but even for Iron Man poison is poison and blood is blood. And those are two things I do know how to work with.”

A smile slowly appears on his face. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Dr. Ross.”

 

* * *

 

She manages to come up with a halfway decent suppressant for the poison. Betty doesn’t have the resources for an antidote, but she _can_ slow the spread of it and lessen its effects.

The blackness of Tony’s veins fade to a still-troubling purple. He swears he can breathe easier--”Though how I manage it with a knockout like you around should never fail to amaze”--and that he feels infinitely better.

Almost brand new.

Still, this success isn’t enough to keep her from wanting to absolutely murder him at his own birthday party.

Drunkenness Betty can abide by, but abject recklessness? Almost injuring his guests and himself? Hurting _Pepper_?

It’s enough to make her want to strangle him herself, newfound friendship be damned.

In fact, if not for the arrival of his military friend--Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, who prefers Rhodey, according to a slightly teary Pepper--she thinks she might have.

Hell, she’s not entirely certain he wouldn’t have done himself in, without Rhodey subduing him. The thought of it makes her heart clench; Betty’s never had a problem making friends, but finding people she truly cared for was always a bit more of a stretch. And she does care about Tony Stark; arrogance and playboy slickness aside, there’s something good in him, something earnest and strong and brave that reminds her of Bruce.

If nothing else, Pepper is her friend and deserves to be treated better by the man she loves, especially when he’s more than capable of it.

(She doesn’t trust Tony’s new assistant, Natalie Rushman, as far as she could throw her. She’s...too polished, too smooth, too poised to be real. Betty’s spent plenty of time in the company of liars, and this woman has _false_ written all over her like a brand.)

 

* * *

 

What feels like years later, she’s watching the TV in abject horror as a veritable army of robots attack Tony and Rhodey with vicious precision. Pepper’s not answering the phone, Natalie and Happy have vanished, and all Betty can do is...wait.

 

Sometimes it feels like that’s all she’s ever done.

 

* * *

 

“Dr. Ross,” comes JARVIS’s congenial voice, “Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts have returned. They are in the medical bay at the moment. Shall I tell them to expect you?”

She’s already down the hall before the AI can finish speaking.

Pepper is standing sentinel at Tony’s shoulder when she arrives, the suppressant clutched in her fist and a litany of curses whirling on her tongue. Rhodey steps between her and Tony--which he has valid reason to do, as she probably looks on the verge of _homicide_ \--hands coming up to hold her shoulders gently.

“Hey, easy, easy. The man’s almost died three times today.”

Betty grits her teeth in frustration. “And if you don’t let me inject what’s in this vial into his stupid, reckless arm _right now_ , it’s going to be a fourth.”

Rhodey blinks. Processes that.

Pepper goes stiff behind him, turning to look at Tony with wide eyes.

“Tony, what is Betty talking about?”

Groaning, Tony covers his eyes with his hand. “Dammit, Betty, I was almost off scot free.”

 

* * *

 

“You were _dying_?!”

“Er...just a little, but it’s all fixed now, I synthesized a thing my dad had a secret blueprint for, so no more poisoning for me, yay! Whole new arc reactor right here, baby.  And speaking of secrets, did you know my assistant is actually a Russian super assassin brought in by SHIELD? Clearly the hiring department has gotten a little lax on those background checks--

“You were _dying,_ Tony--”

“Were, as in past tense--Betty made this thing, an antidote--”

“You know _damn_ well it wasn’t an antidote. It was a suppressant, a steroid of sorts, not a cure.”

“Tony, I _asked_ you if something was wrong, I asked on multiple fucking occasions--”

“Aw, Rhodey, don’t be mad--”

“Don’t be mad?! You were practically a walking _corpse_ , Tony! We could have lost you at any moment--”

“Hey, yell at Betty, too! She’s known for forever--”

“A month, at most; I’m so sorry, Pepper, I didn’t know how to tell you--”

“It’s not your fault, you were just trying to help--”

“ **I** was just trying to help, too!”

Pepper, Rhodey, and Betty say, in unison, “Shut up, Tony.”

 

* * *

 

The new normal is strange for a while, like any change is.

Pepper and Tony together are not much different than they are apart, if maybe a little gentler with each other and certainly happier. It’s nice, to see them so happy; Pepper certainly deserves it and there’s no doubting Tony _needs_ it, the small slice of peace being with her brings him.

It hurts just a little, too. Pepper’s been Betty’s one constant since she joined Stark Industries. Tony is the only person who’s ever memorized an entire book on biotechnological principles in one night just to be able to debate her on things. And while they’re both still her friends, there’s no missing their interlocked hands under the table, or the incredibly tender looks Tony directs Pepper’s way when he thinks she’s not watching. Seeing them together is right, but it also..stings, because Betty doesn’t have that for herself.

Not anymore.

Maybe never again.

Pepper, observant and kind as she is, picks up on it first.

Betty can only kick herself for being so obvious when Pepper turns up at her apartment one night, a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Girls’ night,” she declares, offering Betty a smile when she tries to protest. “Tony knows perfectly well how to get along without me.”

“Pepper, this isn’t necessary--”

Pepper ignores her, producing two bottles of wine from the depths of her bag. “Red or white?”

Admitting defeat (and maybe that a girls’ night was just a little bit necessary), Betty sighs. “Red, please.”

And if she ends up crying over the movie-- _13 Going On 30,_  Pepper really _does_ know her--more than she usually would, Pepper’s good enough not to say anything about it.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, she’s in the middle of reading over the newest reports from the nanotechnology department, when Tony’s voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Betty, are you busy?”

“For you, never,” she teases, looking up to give him a smile; Tony is, in many ways, like the smarmy, incredibly rich older brother she’d never known she wanted.

The man beside him, however, is a surprising sight.

“Agent Coulson,” she says warmly, seeing Tony’s eyes widen out of the corner of her eye, “it’s nice to see you again.”

“Dr. Ross,” he answers, shaking her hand. “A pleasure, as always.”

Tony’s eyes are flicking back and forth, his brain nearly audibly working to make the connection between them.

“My father’s no fan of SHIELD,” Betty says before Tony injures himself, “Agent Coulson and I have spent a lot of time together trying to reclaim the Gamma Project.”

“Still a work in progress,” Coulson agrees. “The research is ours now, thanks to you, but General Ross still has leeway to continue his...search for Dr. Banner.”

Her heart lurches, the way it always does when she thinks about Bruce, about where he could be in the world, if he was safe and warm and healthy--

“I’m may _just_ be a genius, playboy, philanthropist and not a lawyer, but that doesn’t sound exactly legal,” Tony interjects. “Dr. Banner is a person, not a science experiment.”

Betty laughs harshly. “Good luck convincing my father of that.” She turns to Agent Coulson, eyeing him carefully. “But I doubt that’s why you’re here to talk to me.”

He smiles, slightly, controlled in his facial expressions as he is in everything else. “SHIELD has a sample we’d like for you to take a look at.”

“And as I’m a consultant for SHIELD, I also get to look at the mysterious, top secret sample,” Tony says, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. “The perks of being Tony Stark never end.”

Betty and Coulson exchange an exasperated expression.

“What sample, Agent?”

The sample is not near as exciting as the build up to it: it’s a vial of blood, still warm from the high-tech briefcase Coulson brought it here in. Betty handles it carefully, conscious of both pairs of eyes watching her every move.

“Staring at me isn’t going to make the results happen faster,” she says, smiling slightly when Tony jumps guiltily and Coulson’s eyes dart away. “It’s going to take at least a day at best.”

“What did I hire you for, again?” Tony teases. He winces when she pinches his arm and Coulson watches them with a bemused expression on his face.

“You didn’t,” Betty answers, “Pepper did.”

“Ah, Ms. Potts,” Agent Coulson says. “Will we be visiting her today?”

“A great idea,” she adds, despite Tony scowling in the background. “Go on, now, shoo. I’ll call when the results are ready.”

Tony shoots her a very impolite hand gesture when Coulson’s back is turned.

She waggles her fingers at him cheerily as the doors of the elevator close behind them. Turning back to the now spinning vial, she leans closer, peering closely at it. “Now,” she says to herself, “let’s see what all of the fuss is about.”

 

* * *

 


	2. the Law of Cause and Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Betty saw the Hulk for the first time, she was sure she'd seen it all.
> 
> As it turns out, she was very, very wrong.

* * *

 

 

Betty calls Coulson roughly 24 hours later, still staring at the results in disbelief.

“Coulson.”

“Phil,” she says, “where the _Hell_ did you get this?”

“Would you believe New Mexico?”

“It...it’s not _human_ ,” she says. “Why do you have _alien blood_ \--”

“That’s a question for an old friend of yours, actually,” is the response. “It would seem Dr. Foster’s in a stickier situation than we originally thought.”

“Dr. Fost--Jane? Jane Foster?”

Tiny Jane Foster had whirled into Culver a couple years back, a ball of energy and enthusiasm about the much neglected astrophysics program. Betty had liked her immediately, and they’d bonded quickly over a number of things, not least among them being two of five women in the school’s STEM department.

The last she’d heard, Jane was out West doing a sabbatical. Which, if this...blood came from where Coulson said, would explain how Betty’s friend was tied up with aliens.

_Oh, Jane,_ Betty thinks, _always reaching for the stars, never thinking they were going to reach back._

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Ross,” Coulson’s voice pulls her from her reverie, “someone will come to collect the sample within the next day or two.”

“Wait, Phil, is Jane in some sort of troub--” The line goes dead before she can finish her question.

Betty is reminded how much she dislikes anything funded by the US Government.

 

* * *

 

drelizabethross: Jane, are you in New Mexico?

drjanefoster: Betty, hi! Yes, it’s beautiful here, love the food and the sky at night is just amazing!! How are you?? I heard you left Culver!

drelizabethross: I work at Stark Industries now. Listen, have you been contacted by SHIELD?

drjanefoster: Stark Industries, that’s great! What’s Tony Stark like? Is he actually Iron Man? My intern says she heard it’s all an elaborate ruse and the suit is really just a suit--

drelizabethross: Jane…

drjanefoster: Okay, yes, but it’s fine, the situation is under control!

drelizabethross: Jane.

drjanefoster: ...ok not fine. Or under control. But it will be. They can’t just take my research because Thor--

drelizabethross: Who’s Thor? What have you gotten yourself into?

drjanefoster: A mess, per usual.

drelizabethross: Can I help?

drjanefoster: Not unless you know how to break into a secret government facility?

drelizabethross: I’m a bit rusty with my lock-picking skills, unfortunately. But Jane, stay safe, okay? SHIELD is better than my father, but they’re still incredibly influential.

drjanefoster: I’m always safe! Mostly. Hold on, I think someone is at the door--oh, Thor’s back! And with Erik--I’ve got to go Betty, I’ll call you soon!

drelizabethross: Jane wait--

_drjanefoster has gone offline_

 

* * *

 

It’s been 3 weeks since Jane’s last, slightly ominous message and Betty is nearly out of her mind with worry. The only thing keeping her sane and not flying to New Mexico (Tony had offered, which Pepper had shortly after forbidden), is the sudden appearance of yet another visit from SHIELD.

But this time it’s not Phil Coulson’s familiar, if impassive, self; no, this must be something significantly more important, as none other than Nick Fury himself walks into her lab, flanked by a frowning Tony.

“As I recall, Dr. Ross is an employee of Stark Industries,” he’s complaining as they come closer, “and as I’m not a part of the Top Secret Team I’m Not Supposed To Talk About, I don’t know how comfortable I feel with SHIELD continuously using my employee for free labor--”

“I don’t recall saying I gave a damn about your comfort, Stark,” Fury retorts, toeing the thin line between blunt honesty and outright rudeness as only he can. “And Dr. Ross can refuse to see me as much as any person, because I am visiting because of a _personal matter_ that has nothing to do with her being your employee.”

Intrigued, Betty finally lifts her head to acknowledge their presence. “Director Fury, Tony. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tony gawks at her for a moment before letting out a stream of words that can only be described as a squawk, “You _know_ who this is?”

“It’s hard to forget one of the only men who could ever cow my father,” Betty says, lifting the goggles off of her eyes. “Is he giving you trouble, Director?”

“Your father remains as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” Fury says. “Even worse now that he’s being considered for Secretary of State.”

The blood roaring in Betty’s ears is so loud that she barely even registers Tony’s scoff of disbelief. Her father...as Secretary of State?

“Oh, God,” she says, sinking down into her chair. “Oh, _God_.”

“What?” Tony asks, at her side almost instantaneously. “Betty, why aren’t you breathing, Fury, yell at her, get her to breathe--”

“I think she’s thinking of the consequences of her father being the one in charge of the protection and regulation of US assets in foreign countries. Namely a certain scientist that he believes to be a pretty damn big one.”

“Fuck,” she says once, softly, and then again, harder, harsher, angry-- “ _Fuck.”_

Tony’s eyebrows edge up into his hairline. “You don’t curse. You never curse beyond the occasional ‘asshole’, and usually only when I deserve it. Which, granted, is fairly often, but--”

“She deserves to damn well curse if she wants to, Stark,” Fury interrupts, “God knows I did when I heard.”

Betty bends, putting her head between her knees and counting backwards from ten. Tony’s hand is warm and comforting between her shoulderblades, and Director Fury’s presence is as steady as a rock, allowing her to focus on something else besides the rising panic in her chest.

The General already has too much power as it is, but as Secretary of State he’d be the fourth most powerful man in the country. He’d interact with the President and Vice President almost _daily_ , and if they were inclined to like him, Betty sincerely doubts anywhere Bruce could be hiding will be safe for long. SHIELD was just the tip of the iceberg; the CIA, the FBI, any of them could be dispatched at a moment’s notice and there’s no way to _warn_ him, nothing she can do to protect him because she doesn’t have the slightest idea where he could be. It’s like the world’s worst game of hide and seek, with Bruce in a blindfold and the General with night vision goggles.

“Betty?” Tony asks after a few minutes. “Cough if you can hear me. Or scream, if that’ll help more. Pretty sure I still have a bottle of whiskey hidden down here somewhere. Shots on me, Ross, and a day off and a trip to the spa and a free shopping trip--you like shopping, right? Pepper and you have gone shopping before, she said you had fun--”

“Tony,” Betty interrupts, finally lifting her head. “Please shut up.”

“Right,” he says, “shutting up.”

Director Fury gives a low whistle. “If you ever want a job with SHIELD, Dr. Ross, just say the word. The list of people who can get this man to stop talking is pretty damn short.”

She cracks a smile at that, the tightness in her chest lessening just enough that she can sit up. “Stark Industries would be a pretty tough act to beat, sir,” she says, patting Tony’s arm. “I think I’ll stay where I’m at, for now.”

Director Fury nods, but Betty gets the sense that that particular offer will make a reappearance at a later date. “Understandable. And I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you’d want to know before the major media outlets caught wind of it. Get ahead of the curve.”

“I appreciate it,” she says. “Truly.”

He offers her another nod, turning and striding back out of the lab without another word.

“I don’t know if he’s actually good at dramatic exits or if it’s the eye-patch that makes them so dramatic,” Tony says.

“It’s both,” she says sagely, rubbing her forehead. “And the fact that he doesn’t want me to have realized that I owe him a favor now.”

Tony eyes her speculatively. “So you picked up on that, too.”

“Nick Fury never does anything without a reason behind it,” Betty says. “And he’ll show his hand no sooner and no later than he wants to.”

“Mm,” Tony agrees. “He’s an ominous, eye-patched rain cloud on the best of days. But for now, I’m starving and you’ve just had a father-related meltdown--I’m very familiar with the experience, trust me--and so we’re going to go collect my beautiful, likely annoyed with me girlfriend and go get some lunch. Shawarma okay with you? There’s this place on 51st that I’ve been dying to try but Rhodey always complains about me wanting ethnic food and then never actually eating it--”

“Tony,” she interrupts gently, standing to loop her arm through his, “shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

 

* * *

 

She finally, _finally_ hears from Jane on her day off a week later, curled in her most comfortable arm chair with her laptop firmly ensconced on the coffee table when the younger scientist’s face suddenly appears on the screen.

“Betty?” Asks Jane. “Are you there?”

Sighing with relief, she leans closer to the computer and offers her a wide smile. “Here! And so glad to see you’re in one piece, I haven’t heard from you in _weeks_ \--”

“I know, I know,” Jane interrupts, looking guilty. “There’s just been…a _lot_ happening.”

“Mm,” Betty hums. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me why SHIELD had me examine a vial of alien blood?”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. That.”

“It’s a long story, Betty, really--”

“Luckily, today is my day off and as everyone I know in New York is currently at work, I have nothing else to do.”

“...fine. But you’re definitely going to want to stay sitting for this one.”

Jane’s work in New Mexico had apparently gone extraordinarily well.

(“Or extraordinarily _weird_ ,” pipes in Jane’s assistant, a poli-sci student that Betty is pretty sure dozed her way through her Intro to Biology class not three years ago.)

Not only had they--Jane, Darcy, and Dr. Selvig--been able to find the source of the astronomical anomalies, but they’d also found Thor.

“Thor,” Betty repeats. “As in the Norse god of Thunder.”

“Well, less Norse, more...Asgardian,” Jane says. “It’s a planet. A realm? I’m not sure, Thor was a little vague on details, but there’s nine of them, including us--we’re Midgard, by the way, and incredibly behind compared to the technology Thor is used to, which is _completely_ unsurprising if you ask me--”

“Are you telling me,” Betty interrupts, “that I examined blood from an...alien deity?”

“Prince,” Jane says, as if this is all normal and not totally, completely _insane_. “Thor’s a prince of Asgard, not a god. I don’t think. Maybe both?”

“He’s hot enough to be a god,” Darcy adds, earning an flustered glare from Jane.

“You always did have a thing for tall blondes,” Betty says, smiling as Jane flushes. “The biology should be compatible enough, by the way, going by his blood sample.”

“Ew, I don’t want to think about their...biologies mixing,” Darcy groans.

“Darcy!” Jane squeaks. “We didn’t--we just _kissed_ , it’s not like--”

“Hey, you don’t know what his weird Asgardian biology could do,” Darcy interrupts, flapping her hands. “Dr. Ross, could she get pregnant from kissing? Is there a risk for some kind of insemination by proxy, because I am waaaay too young to have a kid--”

Betty laughs even as Jane groans and hides her face in her hands.

“Darcy, this is supposed to be a _private_ conversation between Betty and I--”

“I’m just waiting til my iPod charges up, Grandma, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Betty frowns a little. “Jane, I thought you said that SHIELD confiscated all of your research.”

Jane’s face brightens. “They did, at first, but they gave it all back! They want me to be a consultant. Their technology is even more advanced than anything I’ve designed and I think it can help me open the portal to Asgard--”

“Why--”

“Thor had to go back, you see,” Jane says, eyes darting away from Betty’s. “And he said he’d come back, but he hasn’t, so something must have gone wrong on his end.”

Part of her, the part that still starts on the subway whenever a man with a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes gets on, the part that hung that one, last picture of Bruce on her computer in the lab, wants to reach through the computer and hug Jane. Hug her and tell her she’s making the right choice, that to fight for love is the very bravest, very best thing a person can do.

But the other part...God, she wants to build the portal herself, if only to travel to Asgard or Narnia or wherever else this mysterious demi-god is and kick his royal ass, for leaving Jane so uncertain. Betty knows what it is to be left behind, to not know if the man she loves is safe or _ever coming back_ ; she wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone, let alone sweet Jane Foster.

Jane is still looking at her, hope and determination and worry in her eyes. So Betty swallows her own frustration, her own loneliness, and reaches out to rest her hand on the screen.

“If anyone can build a portal for space travel, it’s you,” she says.

“I hope so,” Jane says. “But thank you, all the same.”

“Don’t forget to tell her what Coulson said!” Darcy says, finally plucking her presumably charged iPod before flouncing outside the camera’s range.

“Oh, right!” Jane says. “I almost forgot. Agent Coulson said to tell you hello and he’d be seeing you soon. Do you know what that’s about?”

Sighing, Betty pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, but I suppose I’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

 

* * *

 

“Sooner” ends up being not two days later, when Agent Coulson turns up on her doorstep not fifteen minutes after she’s gotten home from work.

“Agent,” she says warily. “If you have more blood for me to examine, my apartment really isn’t the place to do it.”

“No blood this time,” he says, stepping backwards a bit to allow her to see the sleek, dark car waiting by the curb. “Director Fury would like to speak to you, if now is a convenient time.”

“Somehow I don’t think I really get a say in the matter,” Betty says, frowning. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

Coulson frowns--the first expression Betty thinks she’s ever seen on his face. “Betty, no one is going to force you to come to SHIELD. Director Fury would simply like your professional scientific opinion on a very important matter.”

Betty weighs this, considering. She’s known both of these men for years now. They’re both more honorable than her father, less inclined to lie or bend the law to when it suits them--Coulson more than Fury, but still, the older man has given her no reason to not trust him. She’ll send Pepper a text to let her know where she’s going, just in case. No sense in not being prepared.

“This does not mean I’m leaving Stark Industries,” she says as she settles into the car beside him. “Just to be clear.”

“The last person I want to make an enemy of is Pepper Potts,” Coulson says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “And stealing you out from under her nose would certainly do that.”

The rest of the drive is silent. It’s no accident that they take a detour through Harlem; Betty can guess what SHIELD is going to offer her, if she helps them with whatever new mystery they present her with. The city’s still being repaired in places, with a few stores with boarded up windows and a patch of pavement that’s clearly just recently been filled in. If she closes her eyes, she can still picture it: the Hulk and the Abomination, tearing each other and this neighborhood to pieces, their huge shadows blocking out the lights of the helicopters, the street lights, the moon itself.

If she concentrates enough, she can still feel the Hulk’s finger brush along her cheek, can still see Bruce’s eyes in the face that was his but wasn’t.

“Dr. Ross?” Comes Coulson’s concerned voice. “We’re here.”

She opens her eyes and gives him a weak smile.

Director Fury is waiting for them inside. “Dr. Ross,” he says, offering her a firm handshake, “I’m glad you agreed to come.”

“I owed you one, sir,” she says. “What seems to be the problem?”

He waves his hands in a placating motion. “We’ll get to that. I’d like for you to take a tour of our labs, if you’ve got the time for it.”

Despite what Coulson has said about SHIELD not trying to court her away from Stark Industries, this feels suspiciously like a bribe.

“Sure,” she says, in spite of herself. If what Jane says is true about the technology SHIELD possesses is true, it can hardly hurt to know where Stark Industries falls in comparison.

“Agent Romanoff will escort you,” Fury says, nodding towards a familiar sight; Tony’s former assistant. She’s cut her hair and abandoned the secretarial attire, but there’s no mistaking Natalie Rushman, who is neither an assistant nor likely named Natalie afterall.

“We’ve met before,” the other woman says. “Good to see you again, Dr. Ross.”

“I’d say likewise, but I’m not in the habit of lying,” Betty snaps back, crossing her arms. “Were you working for SHIELD the entire time or just after Tony nearly died?”

“Romanoff is one of our top agents,” Fury says in a stern voice, giving her a look oddly reminiscent of Pepper at her most disapproving. “And has been longer than you’ve worked for Tony Stark, Dr. Ross.”

Betty sighs, giving both him and the two agents passingly polite nods. “My apologies, then.”

“If you’ll follow me then, Dr. Ross,” Agent Romanoff says.

Unwillingly, she does.

 

* * *

 

Natalie Rushman is really Natasha Romanoff, a Russian super spy with a ledger as red as her hair. Or so she says, anyways. 

Betty may not like her, but she can appreciate the other woman’s frankness at which she recognizes her dislike and deals with it, rather than attempting to change her mind. She’s an excellent tour guide--descriptive but not overly so--and has the patience of a saint whenever Betty stops off to examine a station more intently, which is often.

“How did you get stuck with tour guide duty?” Betty asks, feeling a little more charitable after spending 10 minutes staring at SHIELD’s incredible molecular division lab.

Agent Romanoff smiles, holding up her cell phone. “Pepper thought you might feel more comfortable with a familiar face.”

Betty snorts. “You were a good friend to her, I’ll admit.”

“Pepper is easy to be kind to,” she says. “Easier than Stark, certainly.”

“Tony has his difficult qualities,” Betty concedes, “but none that merited him thinking he was going to die for three months.”

Agent Romanoff gives her a strange look. “You really don’t like me for that, do you?”

“People aren’t playthings,” Betty says. “They don’t deserve to watch someone they love suffer needlessly, or think they’re going to lose them when they don’t have to.”

The other woman is silent for a moment. “You’re right,” she finally says. “But sometimes missions are just missions, Dr. Ross. I was tasked with discovering if Tony Stark was suitable to join a special taskforce, and I got the answer I was looking for.”

“The Tony Stark who thought he was going to die from poisoning is not the same Tony Stark currently building Stark Tower,” Betty fires back. “Perhaps SHIELD should take that into consideration.”

Agent Romanoff smiles. “You’re loyal to the people you love. It’s an admirable quality.”

Betty blinks, slightly thrown. Tony is her friend, of course, but she’s not sure if she loves him in any sort of fashion. Love is something she isn’t sure she’s willing to feel; fondness, yes, affection, of course, but every time she’s opened herself up to loving someone, it’s done nothing but hurt her. Her mother, her father, Bruce, Leonard, even Jane. No, she doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to loving people or _being_ loved by people.

“Thank you,” she says instead, trying not to show her internal turmoil. “I think.”

The other woman nods, gesturing to the last door in front of them. “One last stop.”

Director Fury is unsurprisingly waiting inside.

“Ladies, I’m glad you could join us,” he says in a tone that implies he hasn’t enjoyed being kept waiting.

“You did say I could tour the labs, sir,” Betty reminds him. “And a scientist’s pace is not always the same as a soldier’s.”

And Betty could be seeing things, but she thinks the corner of his mouth may twitch, just a little.

“Be that as it may, this is the true reason for your visit,” he says. He steps closer to what appears to be a viewing window into yet another laboratory. “Tell me, Dr. Ross,” Fury begins, “what do you know about cryopreservation?”

Betty’s eyebrows raise. “It’s never been achieved, at least not successfully. No one who has been cryogenically frozen has ever been resuscitated. The last attempt was in the late 1950s. Human biology just isn’t supposed to go through that kind of stress and survive, Director.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, “and what if I told you we have someone who could survive the process?”

She recoils, almost bumping into Agents Romanoff and Coulson. “I’d tell you I want nothing to do with it. I don’t care what kind of technology SHIELD possesses, or what offers you were planning on making me--”

“Dr. Ross, I’m not asking you to put someone into cryo-sleep,” Fury interrupts, fixing her with a serious look. “I’m asking you to help me bring someone out of it.”

She blinks, confused. “But...that’s not possible. They’d have to be superhuman to withstand the stress, let alone still be considered alive after a deep freeze.”

“Not superhuman, Dr. Ross,” Agent Coulson says, “a super soldier.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone's following, we've breezed through the events of the first Thor movie (Tony & Co. weren't particularly involved in that one, so it's more of an observational take) and are now hovering just before the arrival (or should I say awakening) of a certain Captain. 
> 
> Also, tweaked something a bit: according to MCU canon, Jane was just a student at Culver, but I thought it'd make a bit more sense to have been Betty's fellow professor, arriving a year or so after Bruce's original transformation into the Hulk.


	3. the Law of Compensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone always associates Bruce with the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project. After all, he was the one who'd made the...bigger impact, when it was all said and done.
> 
> Most people tend to forget Betty worked on it too, that she knows just as much about Project REBIRTH as Bruce does, and maybe almost as much as Dr. Erskine himself. 
> 
> Nick Fury, however, is not most people.

* * *

 

 Pepper isn’t perhaps the best choice to vent her frustration to, but there’s no other option. Tony is too close to the whole situation--too much whiskey and not enough Chinese food in the lab one night had revealed him to have even more daddy issues than Betty herself--and Jane’s been incommunicado again, still trying to build her wormhole out in New Mexico.

So Pepper it is, who sits in respectful, if concerned, silence as Betty stalks around her apartment fuming.

“They’ve had Captain America on ice for _months_ , just waiting for the right genius to come along and figure out how to defrost him and start draining him for the serum in his blood--the serum that Bruce turned himself inside-fucking-out for and now they want me to _help_ them?!”

“Betty,” Pepper says gently, “you don’t have to do this. Phil, Director Fury...none of them can force you to do this. Stark Industries has the best legal team in the country; I’ve made sure of it myself. If you want them to leave you alone, they will.”

Betty sighs, deflating a little. “No, I don’t want that either. If they’re right and Captain America--Steven Grant Rogers, he has a name, he’s a _person_ \--is still alive, I can’t...I can’t just leave him frozen. Not if I can figure out how to reverse the process.”

Pepper is quiet for a moment, watching her. “...can you?”

“I...I think so. If he was an average man, I wouldn’t even try, but given his healing factor and the way the serum effected his cellular structure...he can survive just about anything. Even this.”

Betty finally sits, sinking down onto her couch beside Pepper with a long sigh. Pepper’s hand in hers startles her; it’s been a long time since she’s been physically affectionate with anyone besides the customary handshake or congratulatory high five.

“I know this is incredibly hard for you,” Pepper says. “If someone asked me to help anyone who was the slightest bit responsible for that shrapnel in Tony’s chest, I’d tell them to take a hike.”

“I’m so tempted to,” Betty admits, relaxing muscle by muscle until her head rests on Pepper’s shoulder. “I wish I could be that hard, but all I can think about is the picture they have of him on file. He was so _young_ , Pepper. And he didn’t set out to be Captain America anymore than Bruce set out to be the Hulk or Tony intended to become Iron Man.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Pepper interjects. “Tony’s always had a bit of a superhero complex.”

Betty laughs at that. “You’d know better than I.”

They sit in agreeable silence for a while, Betty’s head still on Pepper’s shoulder. It’s...nice, to have a friend that she can be this comfortable with. Pepper, of all the friends Betty’s ever had, is the easiest to trust, the easiest to let her walls down with. Pepper would never vanish off the face of the earth, or endanger her life in a reckless fashion. Pepper, at least, has common sense. Which is more than Betty can say for the majority of people she’s chosen to care about, both past and present.

“So,” Pepper finally says, moving just enough to reach the bottle and pour them both another glass of wine, “final thoughts?”

Betty chews her lip for a moment, considering. “I’ll help them figure out how to defrost the Captain,” she says, slowly, “but I’m not going to be involved in the actual process. I’ve had enough experience with scenes out of a science fiction film to last me a lifetime already.”

Pepper clinks her glass against hers. “Amen to that.”

 

* * *

 

Betty hadn’t been lying when she’d told the Director the cryonics were viewed largely as hokum. Generally, the scientific community wanted to preserve life, and while the idea of being able to freeze oneself and wake up years into the future was nice, it simply wasn’t realistic.

Unless, of course, one was a participant in Project Rebirth and had a healing rate so fast it makes Betty’s head spin.

There are a few other doctors--all in SHIELD’s employ, of course--who had found the Captain. All of them have their own theories on how to defrost the poor man, but none of them seem viable in the face of such a deep freeze.

“No, Dr. Johnson,” Betty sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “we cannot use high powered _hair dryers_ to thaw out the Captain.”

“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas, _Doctor_ Ross,” the younger man spits out. “I think you’d be content with the Captain serving as a monument in a museum.”

“I’d rather not _kill_ him before we unfreeze him,” Betty snaps, “or did you miss that part of the Hippocratic Oath when your father paid your way through medical school?”

“Dr. Johnson, Dr. Ross,” comes Coulson’s weary voice, “this bickering is getting us nowhere. And for the fifth, and hopefully final time, I will remind you that hair dryers do not have enough heating capabilities to melt plastic, let alone five-inch thick ice.”

Johnson grumbles something but subsides into sullen silence. His father is in the forces as well, but in the Navy in place of the Army, and despite lacking at least 5 years of experience on every other doctor here, the younger man seems to think that his ideas are the best.

“What about Vita Radiation?” Another of the doctors, Dr. Garcia, offers. “The Captain has already been exposed to it, so it shouldn’t cause cellular damage and they certainly give off enough heat.”

“The only machine powerful enough to create Vita Rays was lost years ago,” Dr. Foy says, shaking his head. “That’s why that biochemist down in Virginia used Gamma Rays instead. Nasty business, that one.”

Betty avoids flinching, if only just. “Radiation of any sort is dangerous. Especially Gamma. The Vita Rays would be our best bet, but we have no way of creating them.”

“Actually,” comes Coulson’s voice again, “we do.”

 

* * *

 

The world is spinning, spinning, spinning. The only comforting sensation Betty can register is the coolness of the marble against her cheek.

She can still feel the rage in her stomach, the anger, the _betrayal_ ; maybe this is how the Hulk feels, when he’s not Bruce. The original Vita radiation machine _had_ been broken, but a replica had been made, years ago, before the Gamma Project, before Bruce, before the _Hulk_...and SHIELD hadn’t said a damn thing. Not a damn word.

She pulls her straw closer, trying to gulp down more of the horribly fruity drink in her glass, but instead finds only air. Lifting her head, she frowns at the somehow empty glass before her. She hadn’t drank it all. She couldn’t have drank it all. She wanted more.

“‘Nother,” she manages to say, and the bartender gives her a wary look--which was strange--before complying.

“Betty,” and Pepper’s anxious face swims into view, “I don’t think you need to do that.”

“Gotta,” says Betty, “called Coulson an asshole. To his _face_.”

“I know,” Pepper says gently, “you told me.”

“Told Nick Fury,” Betty continues, hiccuping slightly, “he was the real monster. Not ‘Ruce.”

“I know.”

“They had Vita radiation, all along,” she croons, stirring her straw around her empty glass, “the whole time. We didn’t have to use Gamma. Nope. But we did. And now Bruce is the Hulk and is off who knows where and I’m here. In a bar. In Manhattan. I don’t even _like_ the North.”

 _Someone in the bar is crying_ , Betty thinks. Poor person, to cry in such a public place.

It’s not until she notices tears on the glass in front of her that she realizes that _she’s_ the one crying, helplessly and seemingly without being able to stop.

“Oh,” she says, wiping messily at her cheeks, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I can stop--”

“Betty,” Pepper says, squeezing one of her hands, “it’s alright.”

The tears keep on coming. Why won’t they stop? Why can’t _she_ stop?

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she’s saying, “and it turns out, I shouldn’t have _had_ to, if they’d just said, if-if-if they’d just _told_ us about the Vita rays, we could have--everything could have been different, Pepper, everything--”

“The party has arrived--oh. Oh, Christ, Betty, are you okay?”

“Tony!” Betty says, still wiping at her eyes, attempting a smile. “I called Coulson an asshole. To his face!”

“Wow,” comes Rhodey’s steady voice, “that takes guts.”

“Thank you, James,” she says, laying her head back down on the counter, “Tony, are you proud of me? Say you’re proud of me.”

“I’m always proud of you,” he says. “Did you tell our cycloptic friend to fuck off, too?”

“Mm yep. Probably banned from SHIELD property now.”

“Eh, hasn’t stopped me yet.”

A jacket drops down around her shoulders and Betty nestles into it. It’s warm and smells like a man, something she hasn’t been able to appreciate in years, not since she used to steal Bruce’s t-shirts out of the laundry machine. She still has one, a Culver one. It’s worn, now, with holes under the arms. She’ll probably have to get rid of it soon; not that it still smells like him, anyways.

“She’s crying again, how do we stop the crying--”

“Tony,” Pepper hisses, “you’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” Betty says, “so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Rhodey says. “Now, can we take you home?”

She nods, or at least she thinks she does, and the last thing she remembers is someone strong and steady picking her up.

She wishes it was Bruce.

 

* * *

 

It takes week, but she finally agrees to meet with Director Fury, to discuss whether or not she’ll continue on as a SHIELD medical consultant.

“I know you’ve got no reason to trust SHIELD, especially now,” he says, leaning back in his desk chair, “but in spite of this, I hope you’ll still decide to help us with the Captain. He’s a good man, Doctor Ross, and this country is going to need him.”

She sits in stony silence, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him. “Will you lie to him too if he does wake up?”

The neutrality in her expression is exactly what she expected and she stands suddenly, her rage bubbling up in her stomach again. “I don’t know why I even came. I used to think you were a better caliber of man than my father, Nick, but right now I’m not so sure.”

“I can offer you something your father can’t, Betty,” Nick says, composed and calm as ever, even though she’s sure she saw his jaw twitch at her comparison to Thunderbolt Ross.

And it clicks, suddenly, why Coulson let the tidbit about the Vita Rays machine slip without much hesitancy. She knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, just what Nick Fury is about to offer her.  

“Bruce,” she breathes out in a whisper.

Fury nods, his eye fixed on hers. “You help wake up the Captain, and we’ll find Dr. Banner. Simple as that.”

It’s not even a question what her answer is. It never has been.

She dives into work with a new vigour; Pepper understands, and makes excuses to a very perplexed Tony and her Stark Industries co-workers. After her outburst, the other doctors had all had to be informed who she was and why she’d had such a violent reaction to the idea of Vita radiation. Even Johnson doesn’t bicker with her anymore; Fury mentions that he might have implied that the Hulk didn’t take too kindly to people insulting her, and that was enough to get him to shut his mouth.

“You’ll need a large lamp to maintain an average base temperature around the Captain’s core, where it’ll be hardest to thaw out. Start there first and then begin with his extremities, we don’t want him waking up with a frostbitten foot or a half-frozen arm,” she explains one night, after many mugs of coffee and trial runs on similar carbon-based organisms that have gone through deep freeze.

“Won’t you be there?” One of the other doctors asks.

Betty grits her teeth, forcing a sad-mimicry of a smile to her face. “I am a consultant only, I’m afraid. I leave the actual procedure to your capable hands, doctors.”

The physician in her protests; she’d been the one to work out the process with Bruce years ago, and she’d used Tony’s impressive engineering catalogue to help create the right machines to thaw out a 70-year war hero. It should be her, here, making sure he doesn’t come to too quickly, or that there’s no lasting nerve damage from being frozen for so long.

But the rest of her balks at the idea of witnessing this...resurrection. SHIELD has lied to her from the start; she will give them her help, but not her participation in the actual event.

Coulson, in particular, walks on eggshells around her, clearly unsure how to handle this new facet of her personality.

“I’m not going to snap at you again, Phil, Jesus,” Betty finally says one night, running over the numbers again and checking that the polarization was in order. “Though you couldn’t blame me if I did.”

“We didn’t know how much contact you kept with your father,” he admits. “Secretary Ross can, under no circumstances, be made aware of this new Vita machine.”

“And what about the Captain, when he wakes up?” Betty asks. “What do you think my father--Hell, the whole world--will have to say about that?”

His silence leaves her only more annoyed with him--and SHIELD--than before.

 

* * *

 

Four days later she finds herself being hurried into an all-together posh restaurant by a suspiciously harried Tony. Usually, he basks in the limelight that the press happily heaps on him, but Betty supposes the fact that he’s entering the restaurant with a woman who’s clearly not Pepper on his arm has him on edge.

“Tony, relax,” she hisses as he all but yanks her through the doors, “you trying not to make a scene is making a scene.”

Since they’re safely indoors now, Tony manages to relax a little, playfully pressing a hand to his heart. “Dr. Ross, I assure you, I know how to make a scene. No, more than a scene: a feature film, complete with guest cameos, a score by John Williams, directed by that pair of famous brothers--what’s their names--”

“Oh, there’s Pepper,” Betty interrupts, giving a relieved sigh at the sight of her, calmly sitting at a corner table with a bottle of something that is likely delicious and far out of Betty’s usual price range.

It’s not until Betty’s halfway to the table, Tony dragging his feet along behind her, that she realizes that Pepper’s not alone. Rhodey is sitting across from her, looking as confused by their appearance as Betty knows she must look about his.

“Rhodey!” Tony says, something ringing suspiciously false in his surprised tone. “Fancy running into you here; Pepper, did you invite him?”

Pepper opens her mouth to say something, but Tony cuts her off with a kiss toeing very close to the line of inappropriate. Rhodey grimaces, turning to offer Betty a more pleasant expression. “I’m guessing Tony sprung this on you last minute?”

“The very last, actually,” Betty agrees, gesturing down to the dress of Pepper’s that Tony had all but flung at her. “This isn’t even mine; Pepper, I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed it.”

Pepper and Tony have only just surfaced from their very prolonged kiss, and Pepper blinks a few times before saying--in a very dazed, un-Pepper-like voice, “Of course not, no trouble.”

“I think she looks great,” Tony says, sliding down into the booth next to Pepper. “Don’t you think so, Rhodey?”

 _Oh,_ Betty thinks, _so that’s what this is about_.

Tony’s been dropping hints for _weeks_ that she needs to get out more, that there were “plenty of guys in the city without the whole giant green rage-monster thing”, that he knew _plenty_ of nice guys, if she’d just let him set her up.

But Betty’s not ready to be set up, no matter how much of a good man she knows James Rhodes to be, or how attractive she thinks he is. Because she does, and he _is_ a good man, but she...can’t, not yet. It’s not even that she’s still waiting for Bruce--well, part of it is, not that she’ll admit it to anyone save Pepper--but she can hardly move on when she doesn’t know if the last man she was in love with is even alive or not. Coupled with the fact that she’s just gotten around to admitting to herself that yes, she does love Pepper and Tony and even Jane, Betty knows herself. She knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that her heart is nowhere near ready for anything beyond platonic, friendly love.

She may never be, all things considered.

“Subtle, Tony,” she hears Rhodey mutter before he gives her a mostly sincere smile, “you do look lovely though, Betty.”

“Thank you,” she says, managing a smile in return. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Colonel.”

Dinner goes surprisingly smoothly after that; it takes Betty all of five minutes to work out that Rhodey had as much interest in being set up with her as she does with him. But he’s still a wonderfully kind man, with the same wicked sense of humor that most people who’ve had to deal with Tony Stark for long periods of time have acquired, and so the conversation flows.

“You’ll have to forgive Tony for this,” he murmurs in a low tone while Tony is distracted by whatever story Pepper is animatedly telling him, “he means well, but he hasn’t quite grasped the idea that he may _not_ know what’s best for everyone.”

Betty rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. “Funnily enough, I knew that about him already.”

Rhodey laughs at that, his face crinkling into a beautifully happy expression and she feels a sharp pang in her stomach; he _is_ handsome, and kind, and in another life, she would have been _thrilled_ to be set up with him. But on top of the whole messy folder of her love life titled “Bruce Banner”, Rhodey, for all his attractiveness and kindness, is still military.

No matter how good a man--or person, for that matter--her own personal experiences with the General and the Army taint him, just a little bit. Tony trusts him, respects him, and she does too, but...not enough. Not with her heart, and certainly not with the little project SHIELD’s just had her working on.

A sudden gasp from a window facing table a few feet over yanks her from her thoughts. Rhodey is instantly on edge, years of training clearly preparing him to analyze the situation and protect people if necessary. Tony isn’t far behind, one hand reaching for the spare suit she know he somehow keeps rolled up in his pocket and the other firmly holding Pepper’s.

“Must’ve robbed a bank or something,” someone murmurs, peering out the window. “Sure is dressed funny for it, though.”

She and Pepper exchange confused looks; Tony and Rhodey share one of their own before heading over to wear many of their fellow patrons appear to be intently staring.

“Is that Fury?” Rhodey asks, sounding perplexed.

Betty drifts over, Pepper close behind. Her mouth falls open; even from their view five stories above Times Square, there’s no mistaking the broad-shouldered, blonde man who appears to be in a tense conversation with Director Fury.

“It’s definitely dear old Nicky, but why would he be called down to chase some loon through Times Square--JARVIS, get a close up of his face--”

Betty can feel the panic bubble in her stomach like ice. “Tony, wait--”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t called me in,” Tony rambles, clearly not caring that the whole restaurant is aware of who he is now, “I mean, I am the closest and quickest form of handling strange circumstances--”

She can tell the moment JARVIS tells him just who is standing five flights down from them. Tony’s entire back goes ramrod straight, his free hand closing into a fist so quickly that it had to be an involuntary reaction. Betty’s known this whole thing would be a disaster, right from the start; you can’t just bring back a national icon from the _dead_ and expect everyone to accept it. But it’s not until that moment that she remembers just _exactly_ what Captain America represents to Tony that she realizes just how big of a mess this is going to be.

_“Howard Stark cared more about finding his dead friend than he ever did about his son,” Tony had said once, after one too many whiskeys in down in the lab one night. “Probably because Steve Rogers represented his greatest scientific achievement. I was just the result of a pretty fucking standard bodily reaction.”_

“Tony?” Pepper asks gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Who is it?”

He turns, slowly, calmly, controlled. His eyes dart from Rhodey’s face to Betty’s, a circuit of silent accusation.

“Would either of you care to explain,” he says, “how it’s possible for Captain _fucking_ America to be standing in the middle of Times Square?”

 

* * *

 

“I gotta say,” Tony spits, mouth pinched and sour even as he sips his second drink of the night after Rhodey all but dragged him out of the restaurant, with Pepper with her arm firmly around Betty’s shoulders following after, “I always thought you were above playing Frankenstein, Betty.”

Her first instinct is to bristle at him, to scream; she _hadn’t_! But, she’d given the other scientists the tools for this...miracle. That would be like handing someone a loaded gun and claiming she had nothing to do with the murder they committed.

Instead, she takes a deep breath. Counts to ten.

He has every right to be angry with her. Hell, she’s angry with herself; she _knows_ she can trust Tony. And Pepper. And Rhodey.

So she sighs, standing and holding her hand out to him.

Betty takes it as a good sign that he’s willing to offer his in turn.

“I--I wanted to say no. I almost did but,” she says, voice faltering, “Tony, they offered me something I couldn’t say no to.”

“A pay raise?” He snarks, earning a sharp glare from Pepper.

“They offered me _Bruce_ , Tony,” Betty says, squeezing his hand and willing him to understand.

Tony stares for a moment. Then he curses, lifting his free hand up to rub his eyes. “I can’t even fault you for that. God knows if it was Pep…” The couple shares a look around Betty’s head and she could cry for the fondness that’s so plain in his expression. “Still wish you hadn’t lied to me, Betty. Haven’t I proved I can handle a damn secret?”

She hugs him then, ducking her head to press her nose against the curve of his neck. Her relief at being forgiven makes her almost boneless, and she knows she’s taller than Tony and this is probably uncomfortable for him, but she doesn’t _care_ , because she hasn’t lost him, or Pepper, or her job, or anything else.

She must have said at least part of her thoughts out loud, because Tony’s arms come around her in a tight hug. “Christ, Betty,” he says. “Even if you’d brought the Capsicle back to Stark Industries and defrosted him in front of me, I wouldn’t _get rid_ you. You’re stuck with me--with us--for a damn long time, doc.”

 

* * *

 

Director Fury looks unsurprised when she arrives at the SHIELD base the next day, intent on ending her contract as consultant for them.

“I take it you saw our...containment problem last night,” he says.

“Me and half of New York,” she agrees, looking over the second page of the release form. “Tony was less than pleased.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Fury asks, one eyebrow arching up in an expression that can only be described as droll. “You never fail to surprise me, Dr. Ross. A quality few people possess.”

“I honor my agreements,” she snaps. “And I hope you’ll honor yours.”

“We have a team en route to Dr. Banner’s last known location,” is his only response. “When we know where he is, you’ll know.”

Betty’s unimpressed expression draws a semblance of a smile to Fury’s face. “Before you go, there’s someone who wants to see you.”

Her heart leaps into her throat; for a moment, she could almost believe that it’s Bruce, that this is just one more thing that SHIELD’s hidden from her.

But when the door swings open, it’s not Bruce stepping into Fury’s office. It’s Captain Steve Rogers, all six feet and some inches of him, with shoulders so impossibly broad that she has to blink to make sure she’s seeing him correctly.

“Captain,” Fury is saying, dimly, from some very far away place, “this is Dr. Elizabeth Ross.”

“Dr. Ross,” the other man says, offering his hand to shake. “I understand I have you to thank for my...awakening.”

He doesn’t sound overly grateful, but Betty can’t fault him for that, not really. It’s not as if he _asked_ to be woken up. To be brought into a world he no longer recognizes, to wake up and find that the majority of people he’s ever known are dead or might as well be. It has to be disorienting, at the very least.

“Captain,” she says, shaking his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

He purses his lips as if he wants to say something less than pleasant. Betty’s made that expression enough times to recognize it on someone else’s face, even if she doesn’t know him from Adam. Usually, she’d be offended, for someone she’s only just met to be so obviously unimpressed with her. But she figures spending 70 years as a veritable human popsicle would be enough to upset even the most even-tempered of men. So she offers him the most sincere smile she can muster, unsurprised when his expression remains unchanged.

The door opens again, revealing Coulson, who has his head tipped down towards the tablet in his hands. “We’ve located the Big Guy, sir,” he says, “we’ll begin putting together an extraction team--”

He looks up, seemingly just realizing Director Fury’s office wasn’t as empty as he thought.

Or, at least that’s what Betty _thinks_ must be running through his head at the moment, because all she can concentrate is the sudden rush of blood behind her ears and her knees turning to water.

 _Bruce_. They’d found him.

The Captain moves faster than she would have thought possible, easing her into a chair with gentle, steady hands.

“Ma’am?” He asks, all polite consideration now, all distrust long since forgotten. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“You know, people generally knock before entering a room, Agent,” Fury intones from somewhere to her left.

Coulson manages an apology, sounding more flustered Betty ever heard him.

“I’m fine,” Betty finally says, patting the Captain’s hands with one of her own. “I’m sturdier than I look, I promise.”

That, for some reason, draws a smile out of him. “Can’t say I’m too surprised by that, Dr. Ross.”

“Betty,” she says, suddenly. “You hardly owe me any formalities.”

He ducks his head at that, chuckling just a little. “Never been big on titles myself. I’m Steve.”

This time, his handshake feels less like a judgment, and a lot more like the handshake of a man that people would have followed into battle.

She’ll never tell Tony, but she thinks she can understand, just a little bit, why Howard Stark spent so much of his life trying to bring Steve Rogers home.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this covers the sort of No-Man's-Land between Iron Man 2, Thor, and the first Captain America. Obviously this is all leading up to the Avengers where all of these lines of contact (and people) will finally overlap. 
> 
> Also it should be noted that I am not, under any circumstances, any kind of science major/oriented person, so I apologize for the likely outrageousness of whatever science-y things I write about. Feel free to offer suggestions/opinions/comments below. 
> 
> (also so sorry for the long wait, graduating college and finding a big girl job has taken up most of my time for the past few months!)


	4. the Law of Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someone up there,” Betty mutters less than 24 hours later, as the Tower shudders from God knows what’s going on outside of it, “seriously has it in for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this one covers what seems to be the very short timespan between Steve waking up and the start of the Avengers. It's a bit of a doozy, this chapter, but try as I might, I couldn't shorten it.

* * *

 

 

Despite her best intentions of having nothing to do with SHIELD ever again, Betty finds herself once again in Fury’s office a few days later.

Her visit this time is more cordial, if only just.

“As you’ve reminded me many times, Director,” she says, “Captain Rogers is a war hero, not a criminal. So I fail to see why you’re keeping him cooped up here, in SHIELD’s basement, when he should be out learning about all of the things he’s missed in the past 70 years.”

Fury gives her a deadpan look. “And how exactly would you know that the Captain hasn’t been exploring the city, Dr. Ross? Did he forget to send you a text?”

She gives him an equally unimpressed look in return. “I’m still on the Project Resurrection email thread, sir. I know you’ve been consulting people on how to make his rooms here as accurate to the 1940’s as possible.”

(She’d actually been removed from the list-serve at least twice--once by Coulson, the second time by Fury himself--but somehow kept being added back. Betty suspects she may have to thank Agent Romanoff for that, as the woman had looked _far_ too smug upon her arrival at the base this morning.)

Fury sighs. “Is being a pain in the ass something you’ve learned from Stark, or one of the few traits you share with your father?”

“Both, most likely,” Betty says brightly, unfazed by the less-than-favorable reference to the General. “Now, Director, I suspect you are well aware that keeping the Captain here against his will is against a number of different laws. Not to mention the kind of backlash SHIELD will face if it comes out that they kept a man who was awarded the Medal of Honor away from the public, for no reason other than they wanted him under their thumb. Ms. Potts has authorized me to borrow as many of Stark Industries lawyers as necessary if you refuse to permit the Captain his rights, but I suspect it won’t have to come to that.”

Fury stares at her for a moment. He chuckles suddenly, shaking his head. “There’s a little more of the Machiavellian in you than I would have thought, Betty.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m a tad touchy about any branch of the U.S. Government claiming people as property,” she answers primly. “Bad blood, and all that.”

He gives her a stony look at that before pressing his ear piece and saying, “Romanoff, would you escort the Captain to my office?”

She resists the urge to smile.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you doing this?” The Captain--Steve--asks her later, as they walk side by side down 42nd.

She turns her head to look at him, his hat pulled down low, shoulders hunched slightly in the only hoodie they’d been able to find on base that was big enough to fit him, like he’s trying to make himself less noticeable, closer to the size he must have been before he became Captain America.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Betty admits.

 

* * *

 

Even with Fury’s concession to allow Steve trips off of the base, Betty’s not fool enough to imagine they won’t keep a tail on him.

Steve knows that, too, and manages to get someone he trusts to be inconspicuous.

Betty doesn’t quite comprehend how a woman with hair as red as Agent Romanoff’s manages to blend in so well in a crowd, but she can and does, so well that sometimes it takes Steve giving a discreet nod to her remember that they _are_ being followed.

In the meantime though, she gets to know the man behind the Shield, and finds he’s every bit as kind and humble as the most ridiculous of books about him made him out to be. What the books don’t mention is that he’s got a sense of humor as dry as a desert and can curse as well as any other Brooklyn boy, though he does apologize fervently for doing so in her presence.

“Steve,” Betty finally laughs after one particularly memorable occasion involving an incredibly rude cabbie and a bus full of tourists, “if you _didn’t_ curse after that, I’d be worried. My delicate feminine sensibilities are hardly offended by the word _asshole_.”

(She spots Agent Romanoff smirking behind them, and knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Steve has apologized to her as well for his less-than-squeaky-clean language.)

 

* * *

 

Tony doesn’t know about any of it, of course.

She knows Tony and Pepper knows Tony; of all of the many admirable (and less than admirable) traits that the man possesses, being sensible is not one of them.

Betty is surprised, however, that Pepper’s so willing to help her lie to him; she and Tony are more in love than ever, comfortable around each other in the way that only truly committed couples are, and her aid in Betty’s deception is baffling, frankly.  

Pepper purses her lips when Betty asks her about it--gently, of course, she knows it’s no small thing to lie to the person that you love--and shrugs, in the most un-like Pepper fashion Betty’s ever seen. “If you can think of a better explanation than telling Tony that you’ve adopted Captain America--”

Betty splutters on her wine at that, nearly choking on a laugh. “I have not _adopted_ him, the man is 92--”

Pepper merely smiles, twirling her own wine in a graceful circle. “Did you, or did you not, use the company credit card I lent you to buy him a Los Angeles Dodgers t-shirt?”

Betty flushes. “They were the Brooklyn Dodgers before, and you should _see_ the shirts SHIELD keeps putting him in, I swear no one there is aware of a shirt size larger than medium--”

“Can you blame them?” Pepper asks, raising an eyebrow.

Betty gawks at her, open mouthed in shock. She starts laughing, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “ _That’s_ the real reason you’re okay with not telling Tony about Steve and I’s friendship; you’ve got a _crush_ on the Star Spangled Man with a Plan--”

“I do not!” Pepper cries, a slight flush in her cheeks--whether from embarrassment or wine is anyone’s guess--and she swats Betty with a pillow.

Betty continues to giggle, laughter only increasing when Pepper jumps nearly a foot when her phone rings, Tony’s signature _Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You_ ringtone blaring from somewhere in her cavernous bag. She lets her attention wander as Pepper answers; they’re at her apartment tonight, Pepper wanting to escape from the construction at the Tower. It’s finally started to feel like home, this place. There are well-worn take-out menus stacked on the counter in the kitchen, a beautiful painting Pepper and Tony had given her for her two-year anniversary of working at Stark Industries on the wall, an incredibly warm blanket Jane had sent her from New Mexico thrown across the couch…

Betty twists her the pendant of her necklace between her fingers, smiling absentmindedly up at the newest homey touch to her apartment; pictures. There’s one of her and her long suffering lab techs after cracking a particularly confusing mutation, weary but bright eyed as they hold the long formula up to the camera.

Another of her and Pepper, laughing into their hands at whatever Tony had been saying from behind the camera.

Tony pouting as Betty and Rhodey high five in the foreground, having just kicked his ass (again) at pool.

An older photograph of her in her cap and gown, standing proudly between her mother and Nana, all of them smiling in spite of their noticeably damp eyes.

The last picture she has with Bruce is there too. It was at one of their colleague's wedding, a month or two before the accident, and they’re dancing, her arms around his neck, his hands at her waist as they smile into each other’s eyes, oblivious to everything else around them.

She misses him, she’ll _always_ miss him, but she thinks, deep down, that Bruce would be proud of her and the new life she’s made here.

“Betty,” comes Pepper’s voice, drawing her from her memories. “Tony wants to take us to dinner; any requests?”

“Not shawarma,” she says on instinct, smiling when Pepper laughs.

Life could be worse.

 

* * *

 

Betty supposes she should know better by now than to count her chickens before they hatch.

The first bout of weirdness starts the very next day, during her lunch break.

“They gave me an assignment,” Steve murmurs.

They’re making their usual trek from the gym he’s been frequenting to the closest local coffeeshop--try as though she might, Betty’s been unable to find a single Starbucks drink that Steve even remotely likes--and she almost stops dead in the street.

There’s a slight cough from behind her, remind her that they’re not alone; Agent Romanoff has been replaced by an unfamiliar agent, apparently away on a mission herself.

“What kind of assignment?” She asks.

“Retrieving a...device,” is the response. Steve’s been tense since the start of their walk, and it only worsens as he tries to explain. “Have you ever heard of something called the Tesseract?”

Betty wracks her brain, but the only thing that comes to mind is a tessera, and she’s sure SHIELD isn’t asking Steve to find an ancient Greek mural. “I haven’t...and that’s all they’ve said about it?”

A look of relief crosses his face and Betty gives him a curious look. He waves her off, saying, “The less you know the better. It’s incredibly dangerous.” Steve finally smiles slightly as she frowns at him. “Nothing I can’t handle, Betty, you know Fury’s not going to waste all of the hard work you and the other scientists put into thawing me out so soon.”

“Ten years ago, I never would have thought my father would almost let me become a fugitive and turn my own work on the Gamma Project against the man I love, but here I am,” Betty says.

Steve stares at her for a minute. “You worked on the Gamma Project, too? I was reading the file...no one was supposed to be able to even get close to replicating Erskine’s work--”

“We managed it somehow,” Betty interjects. “Bruce always had the better head for numbers, but practical application was always more my field.”

Steve whistles. “No wonder SHIELD’s so desperate to keep you around.”

She rolls her eyes slightly, trying to not feel flattered. “Even if I got fired tomorrow, I wouldn’t work for SHIELD.”

“Because they’re a government agency?”

“Because of the uniforms,” Betty deadpans, earning a snort from Steve. “Speaking of, we have got to get you out of whatever they’ve put you in today if you have any shot of blending in in a crowd.”

Steve looks down at his standard white shirt (again at least a size too small, Betty was really going to have to talk to whoever was running SHIELD’s clothing distribution) and Army grade khakis. “What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like someone’s well muscled grandfather,” she says, slipping her arm through his. “Come on, there’s a Macy’s just around the corner here. Let’s get you a shirt that actually fits.”

Steve chuckles, the agent behind them mutters something about not being paid enough for this, and Betty begrudgingly thinks that Pepper may not have been too far off when she accused her of adopting one of America’s national icons.

 

* * *

 

_Leaving now_ , is a text she gets later that afternoon, _planes sure are faster than I remember._

**_And a good bit safer,_ ** Is her response. She’s read his file too; she can’t imagine it’s easy for him, getting back in the air, flying over the ocean.  **_Be careful, okay?_**

_Yes ma’am. P.S. The new shirt was a hit._

 

* * *

 

Her days are a good bit slower now that her lunch breaks are purely for lunch again, so Betty can’t help but perk up when Tony bustles into the lab late one afternoon.

It’s the first time she’s seen him in the suit but with his helmet off, and the result is oddly endearing. It’s a reminder that it’s still Tony in there, that Iron Man is just another extension of himself, much like the Tower will be once it’s finished.

“Elizabeth!” He calls. “Second brightest light of my life! Science goddess supreme!”

“Oh, God,” she groans fondly, pushing her glasses further up her nose, “what did you do?”

Tony has the gall to look affronted. “Me? I can’t just be happy to see you, Dr. Ross?”

“Science goddess supreme?” She parrots back, quirking an eyebrow.

He deflates a bit at that, rocking back and forth on his feet. She stands to look at him--they’re eye to eye while he’s in the suit--and notices something she’d never thought she’d see; Tony Stark is _nervous_.

“You’ve done something,” she says again, “or are about to do something?”

Tony brightens, if only slightly. “You bet your ass, baby! I’m about to go install the Arc Reactor so we can power the Tower,” he pauses, frowning slightly, “--ignore the rhyme--with completely clean energy.”

“I know that, Tony,” Betty says. “I’ve been running test trials with you all week.”

“Oh,” he says. “Right.”

“Tony,” she sighs, sounding entirely like Pepper, “please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“It’s not _bothering_ me, it’s just making me a little--”

“Nervous?”

He gawks at her. “Tony Stark does _not_ get nervous--”

“JARVIS, what’s Mr. Stark’s heart rate right now--”

“It’s--”

“Don’t answer that, JARVIS,” Tony interrupts, frowning at her. “Alright, if you’re going to _insist_ …”

He must press a button within the suit because a box suddenly appears from a compartment at his hip.

“The suit has pockets?” She asks incredulously, reaching to gingerly take the box in her hands.

“All civilized clothing has pockets,” Tony answers. “And this suit is nothing if not civilized.”

But Betty’s attention has been completely absorbed by what she holds in her hands. The jewelry box--because she knows that’s what it is--is small and velvety under her fingers.

“I got Rhodey’s opinion already,” Tony says, in an entirely different tone of voice. “But I thought I’d better get a more feminine vote before...well, before.”

The ring is _stunning_ , a large diamond at its center, flanked on either side by a smaller diamond. The band is a pretty rose gold--likely picked because of its close resemblance to Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair. It’s ostentatious enough to satisfy Tony’s tastes, but classic enough not to offend Pepper’s more traditional sensibilities.

“It’s perfect,” she says, setting the box back in the suit’s compartment. “Tony, she’s going to love it.”

“You think?” He asks. “I..I thought she might like something smaller, but none of those seemed nice enough--Pep deserves the best, you know that--”

“It’s wonderful,” Betty interrupts, knowing a Tony ramble when she sees one. “When are you asking?”

“Soon,” he says, waiting for the “pocket” to seal shut before putting his helmet on. “Think you can keep a secret?”

“Cross my heart,” Betty promises. “I’m so happy. For both of you.”

She waves him off, smiling, resolutely not thinking about how unlikely it would be to ever have someone fretting about picking just the right ring out for her.

 

* * *

 

Pepper calls her upstairs a few days later and Betty steels herself not to give anything away. There’s a possibility Tony’s already proposed, though Betty would be a little hurt if she’s just hearing about it now.

Pepper’s on the phone when Betty peaks her head in the door, but she motions her in anyways.

“Yes, I understand. Alright, I’ll leave tomorrow morning. Thank you.” Pepper sets the phone down with a roll of her eyes. “Bureaucrats. They want our money, but don’t want to upset their constituents who don’t support our move away from the weapons industry.”

“Mm,” Betty hums, “bet the General is among those trying to get people to cut ties with Stark Industries.”

“Most likely,” Pepper agrees. “But regardless, I have to go to DC for a few days. Tony’s off doing a favor for SHIELD and I can run the company remotely for the most part, thanks to JARVIS.”

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Potts,” comes JARVIS’s voice.

Betty chews her lip, confused. “Tony’s doing a favor for SHIELD? I didn’t think they were on the best of terms.”

Pepper’s smirk is a touch smug. “It’s for a worthy cause, trust me.”

 

 

* * *

 

That’s the thing about routine. Once one’s been established, there’s nothing more disorienting than it being altered. With Pepper, Tony, and Steve all out of the city--Betty is sure there’s some common factor there, but she can’t figure out _what_ \--she spends more time in the lab than ever.

And that’s how she ends up meeting one of the newest employees at the Tower--Dr. Helen Cho, geneticist.

“I’m not quite an employee, I’m just doing some freelance for Mr. Stark,” Helen explains. “But you’ve been here for a few years now, haven’t you, Dr. Ross?”

“A little over three,” Betty concedes, marveling at the plans laid out on the other doctor’s desk. “What is this, exactly?”

“Hmm?” Helen asks. “Oh! It’s just a prototype, not even ready to be built yet--”

“The Cradle,” Betty reads at the top of the page. “What does it do?”

“It..it can print tissue. Like a 3D printer?” Helen says. “It’s meant to help heal people faster, and prevent them from having to go through skin grafts and other painful surgeries…”

Betty knows her stunned expression is giving Helen pause, but she can’t help it; this may be one of the most advanced ideas she’s ever laid eyes on.

_Tony really does have an eye for the inventive_ , Betty thinks; not one in 100 medical schools would have given Helen the funding for such untested research.

“You think it won’t work,” Helen says, jerking Betty from her thoughts.

“I think it absolutely will work,” Betty says, running her hand over the page. “And I think you may have given Tony a run for his money.”

Helen beams.

 

* * *

 

“How’s DC?”

“Surprisingly civil. But I’ll be glad to be back home tomorrow.”

“We’ll be happy to have you back. JARVIS isn’t the best drinking partner.”

“My apologies, Dr. Ross, as I am not a corporeal being and therefore cannot imbibe liquids.”

“I swear he gets snarkier all the time. I wonder if Tony coded him that way or if he’s adapting on his own?”

“...I’m not sure. Remind me to ask.”

“Well, at the very least we’ll have an in with our new machine rulers when JARVIS takes over the world.”

“Somehow, that’s not a very comforting thought.”

“Mm. Fly safe tomorrow; it’s been very dull without you and Tony around.”

“I’m sure things will pick up soon, Betty.”

 

* * *

 

“Someone up there,” Betty mutters less than 24 hours later, as the Tower shudders from _God_ knows what’s going on outside of it, “seriously has it in for me.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’s in the lab when it all starts, head down and intently running a test on the effects of Tony’s new element on polarized water. A sudden _boom_ startles her into nearly knocking the vial over.

“Tony?” She calls. Betty could have _sworn_ she hadn’t heard him come back, but it wasn’t unlike him to appear in his own section of the lab suddenly, welding away and causing mini-fires through his own carelessness.

There’s no answer.

The doors to the elevator slide open, revealing a frantic looking Helen. “Betty, are you in charge down here?”

Betty frowns. “I...suppose so, I am one of the Head Technicians and Dr. Diya is out today--”

“Ok, good, we need to gather all of the lab techs with medical experience and head to the med bay. Now.”

Dread seeps into her stomach like ice water. “Why?”

There’s another _boom_ followed by something that sounds like gunfire, but...warped, somehow, liquidy instead of the usual sharp staccato sound.

“Manhattan is under attack,” Helen says. “From...aliens.”

Betty is silent for a moment. “You _have_ to be kidding me.”

But Helen’s fear is sincere, and if the amount of _noise_ coming outside the Tower was anything to go by, it’s hardly the Girl Scouts making their rounds.

“We’d better go, then,” Betty agrees.

 

* * *

 

Eight of the technicians have previous medical experience, and the rest are put on basic duty; collecting bandages, providing fresh stitches, cleaning out the disinfectant after it’s been used more than twice.

Betty’s not sure _why_ so many civilians are pouring into Stark Tower, but now isn’t the time to question it. There’s a man with a deep gash in his left arm in front of her, his bruised and terrified child clinging to his right, asking for his mother all the while. So she loses herself in the familiar motions; it’s been awhile since she’s done this, but her muscles remember, just as her brain flicks through all of the symptoms people are exhibiting; shock, exhaustion, blood loss, grief.

Helen is two cots down from her, dealing with her own patients, and her technicians are all meticulous and professional; not just anyone was hired by Stark Industries, and they’re all exhibiting their caliber now.

Finally, the noises outside the Tower slow, quiet down.

She can breathe again, stripping off bloody gloves to gulp down a water that someone--Dr. Diya after all, he must have come in at some point during the rush of civilians--hands her.

“Betty,” comes Helen’s weary voice, “you won’t believe this.”

The TV had been left running in one of the hallways and Betty can only stare.

She spots Steve, in his old Captain America uniform, deflecting gunfire away from Agent Romanoff with his shield.

Tony, in his suit, zooms into view, blasting what must be an entire fleet of aliens with rockets.

A tall blonde man hefting what appears to be a giant hammer, taking out a line of aliens like a stack of cards.

And then--

_And then--_

She sinks backwards into a chair, deaf to Helen’s exclamation of worry.

Because the Hulk is there, flinging a wrecked car into a hoard of aliens, roaring his displeasure as one of them manages to shoot his arm.

_Bruce_.

“Where are you going?” Helen asks, clearly alarmed. Betty shakes her off, feet moving with a mind of their own; she has to get outside, she has to find him, she has to--

She barrels straight into Pepper.

Pepper, who is teary-eyed and shaking, looking like her entire world has just ended.

“Pepper?” Betty asks, startled out of her desperation.

“Is Tony here?” Pepper asks, sounding as gutted as Betty feels. “He--I saw him fall, from the wormhole, and he called me, but I was too busy watching, I didn’t--”

And Betty has to forget about Bruce, just for a moment, because Pepper crumples into her arms, clinging to her like she’s the only thing left in the world that makes sense. At this point, she probably is.

“No, he’s not,” Betty finally says. “But I’m sure he’s fine, Pepper; Tony Stark is too stubborn to let something as mundane as an alien attack kill him--”

Pepper gives a watery laugh at that, clearly toeing the line of a sob.

“Ms. Potts,” JARVIS says, causing them both to jump, “Sir is fine. I will ask him to call you immediately, if you’d like?”

“Thank God,” Pepper breathes and Betty silently agrees with her. “Tell him if he doesn’t call me _right now_ I will march out into the street and find him myself--”

“Pep, don’t do that, the dust out here would ruin your nice white outfit,” comes Tony’s voice.

Pepper gasps, Betty nearly sags in relief, and they both could swear JARVIS chuckles, if an AI _can_ chuckle.

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper says, in the way only she can, “I leave the city for four days and you nearly get everything blown up--”

“Further proof that I can’t be trusted to do anything without you, ever,” he says. “How’s the Tower holding up?”

“It’s a bit crowded,” Helen says, “we’re one of the only places with power at the moment, Mr. Stark, so a bunch of civilians have been coming to us for help.”

“Is that Cho?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, consider yourself hired, if you want the job. I’ll get Fury to send some of his people down there to help regulate the chaos--relax, Capsicle, he owes me one--”

“Tony,” Betty interrupts, well aware she’s the one trembling now, grateful for Pepper’s arm around her back, “is...is Bruce with you?”

“Erm...technically, no,” Tony says after a few seconds, “he’s still a little...well, a lotta...green.”

Betty nearly stumbles in relief. “That’s fine. Just...get him to the Tower, will you?”

“Do you have some kind of Hulk-suppressant or something? Because that would be damned impressive, let me tell you--ow, get off, Cap, she knows I’m kidding--”

“Betty,” comes Steve’s voice, “a couple of our team is going to need some patching up. You think you can manage?”

“Of course,” she says, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

“We’ll meet you by the garage in 10 minutes,” Tony says, “our jolly green giant should be less conspicuous that way--stop _hitting_ me, Rogers, it should hurt you more anyways, I’m wearing a Vibranium suit--”

 

* * *

 

They leave the med bay in Dr. Diya’s capable hands, with the newly arrived SHIELD personnel in charge of rounding up the non-injured civilians and lost children.

Pepper’s hand holds hers tightly and Helen practically vibrates with nervous energy next to them.

Betty spots the other tall blonde man first--Thor, Pepper had explained, another member of the Avengers Initiative that Tony had been originally rejected from.

Steve appears next, supporting Agent Romanoff and another man Betty doesn’t recognize, an arm around either one of them.

And then…

The Hulk and Tony appear together, Tony stopping every few feet to make sure he’s being followed still. He is, and the Hulk is as calm as Betty’s ever seen him, barring the night they’d sat through the rain together, side by side.

Betty’s torn between wanting to run and wanting to stand stock still; so much has happened today that she can scarcely process it all, let alone make herself move toward something she’s been waiting for for so long.

Pepper gives her a gentle nudge, smiling softly. “I told you it was for a good cause.”

So Betty steps. And steps again. Moves her feet until Tony isn’t more than an arm’s length away from her, and the Hulk another foot after that.

“The Big Guy’s not big on words,” Tony says, setting a hand on her shoulder once he’s reached her. “I’m not sure how much he’s really aware of, in terms of Bruce’s mindset, so I wouldn’t--

“Bet-ty?” Asks the Hulk, in his deep, scratching voice.

She laughs then, or maybe it’s a cry; either way, the Hulk’s hand stretches out to touch her face, a finger ghosting gently over her cheek.

“Hi,” she says, voice barely a whisper, “about time you showed up.”

And the Hulk smiles.

 

* * *

 

After everything she’s seen the past few years, watching the Hulk become Bruce again is on the lower end of the totem pole of weirdness. She’s seen it before, for starters, and she’s a scientist first and foremost, firmly aware that anything that expends that much energy is likely to knock someone on their ass, Gamma radiation or no Gamma radiation.

It doesn’t mean her heart doesn’t stutter, just a little bit, when the green starts to recede.

Tony, though, hasn’t put two and two together, and nearly panics when the Hulk shrinks down, darting forward as Bruce all but slumps over into Betty’s arms.

“Is this normal?” He asks, in a panicked voice. “I mean, he did kick a hell of a lot of alien ass today, Betty, but passing out is bad, right? Bad bad; we should get his head checked--”

“Tony,” Betty interrupts, grateful for Steve’s sudden arrival as he slings one of Bruce’s limp arms over his shoulders. “He just shrank down to less than half of the Hulk’s size. Of course he’s going to pass out.”

“Oh,” Tony says, moving forward to hold up Bruce’s other side. “Right. Basic physics.”

“It’s been a long day,” Steve says. “Let’s just get everyone inside.”

 

* * *

 

 

They move up to a non-civilian occupied level, Tony rattling off orders to JARVIS along the way. The room they claim is stuffed full of very expensive leather couches, and Betty has to hide a smile behind her hand when Pepper flinches as the dirt-encrusted and somewhat bloody Avengers all rest their feet.

Helen takes over looking over Agent Romanoff, who has more than a few cuts and even more bruises.

Bruce is, unsurprisingly, still unconscious. But they settle him down on one of the bigger couches, tucking a spare blanket around him. Thor--who must be Jane’s demigod boyfriend and therefore an _alien_ , of all things--agrees to keep an eye on him. Betty takes a moment to brush Bruce’s hair back from his face; it’s longer than it was in Harlem, and he’s tanner, too, but blessedly, wonderfully whole. That’s all she can ask for, at the moment. She can hardly tell his unconscious body how much she’s missed him, how worried she’s been about him, how much she’s done in his absence--

“Betty?” Steve asks, voice gentle. “Still need you to look someone over, if you’re up to it.”

Standing slowly, she offers Steve a weak smile. “Of course.”

Agent Clint Barton is unfamiliar to her, but both Agent Romanoff and Pepper vouch for him. He has a nasty gash on his upper arm, but doesn’t so much as flinch when she tells him he’ll need stitches.

“Just another scar to add to the collection,” he says, shrugging slightly. “I’ve had worse, believe me. If you don’t, ask ‘Tasha, she’ll tell you.”

Betty gives Agent Romanoff--Natasha, she supposes, though it’s hard to think of her as anything other than a supremely skilled SHIELD agent--a querulous look that’s rewarded with an even nod.

“Clint kept all of us safe during the fighting,” Steve says, helpfully passing her the fresh needle. “Never seen anybody with an eye like yours, Barton.”

“All part of the job,” Clint says. “Luckily, I didn’t have to keep much of an eye on your boyfriend over there, Doctor. The Hulk’s a one man army, as far as I see it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says, the words spilling out of her in a rush.

She focuses on the stitches in front of her, ignoring the obvious looks that are being exchanged over her head.

“Betty,” Steve says, gently, “you don’t talk about someone the way you talk about him if you don’t--”

“I haven’t seen him,” Betty interrupts, anger bubbling up out of nowhere, anger and resentment and _hurt_ , because in all these years she’s gotten one stupid letter and she _still_ couldn’t get him out of her head and her heart and everything else, “in four years, Steve.”

“Doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about him,” Clint interjects, infuriatingly rational. “Or that he hasn’t thought about you.”

Betty is silent, mulling that over. The silence stretches until she’s stitched the wound neatly closed and covers it with a clean bandage.

“Look,” Clint says, “I don’t know you from Adam, Dr. Ross. And I’ve only known Bruce Banner in the three minutes I saw before he turned into the very angry version of the jolly green giant, but I do know a Hell of a lot about loving somebody even when they’re not around. It doesn’t make you stupid, or weak, or anything else. Feeling that much for somebody isn’t something to be ashamed of. Hard to shake, sure, but not...wrong.”

“But I don’t...I don’t even know if he _still_ \--” Betty starts to say, embarrassed to feel tears welling behind her eyes.

Steve’s hand settles comfortingly on her shoulder, Clint’s face pinches in a worried expression, and then--

“I was the one who brought Bruce in,” Agent Romanoff says, waiting to continue until Betty looks up at her. “I’m pretty good at reading people, Dr. Ross, it’s how I was trained. And let me tell you, Bruce is a man who doesn't every time get what he wants.” She pauses for a moment, giving Betty a steady look. “But waking up, here, with you five feet away? I think that might break the pattern.”

Betty takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I guess we’ll find out.”

 

* * *

 

She’s not sure when she dozes off, but when she comes to, the lights have all been dimmed and the room is still, quiet in the way a place becomes when it’s been empty for some time.

She sits up slowly, peering over at the couch she’d last seen Bruce on.

He’s still there, cocooned tightly under the blanket. In spite of the whirlwind of emotions she’d felt earlier, she can’t help but smile at the sight of him; one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, burrowed under the blankets like a child.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Bruce begins to stir. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot up, eyes wide, clearly startled and veering quickly towards panic.

Betty moves before she can think about it, ending up almost perched on his chest, just like she had been years ago now, in Sterns’ cramped office. “Bruce, you’re fine, everything's fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands, “breathe with me, okay?”

And he does, staring up at her as if he’s never seen her before. “Is this a dream?” He finally asks.

She laughs, just a little, tracing the new lines at his temples with her fingers. “If it is, it’s a good one.”

Slowly, his hands come up to cradle her face too, his thumb smoothing over cheekbone. “This...this is real,” Bruce whispers. “God, please let this be real.”

“You’re in Manhattan,” is Betty’s response, leaning into the warmth of his hands. He’s always had a way with them, even before. “In Stark Tower.”

“Tony...the Captain...Natasha,” he murmurs and she can see his brain working, piecing together everything he remembers and filling in the rest with what likely followed. “We stopped the attack?”

“With flying colors,” she promises.

He laughs softly at that, reaching to run a hand through her hair before stopping himself short. “How... _why_ are you here?”

“I work for Tony,” Betty says with a shrug. “You didn’t expect me to sit and pine for you at Culver forever, did you?”

“No, I’d never--I’d _never_ want that for you,” he says, suddenly fierce, and her heart aches. This is why she’s been so stuck on him, why it’s so easy to love Bruce Banner through separation and miscommunication and heartbreak. Hulk or no Hulk, nothing could have made his heart any bigger than it already was.

“I know,” she answers, stifling a yawn as the day’s activity catches up to her. “Scoot over, will you?”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” he says, but makes room anyways.

She settles in beside him, adjusting to the new sturdiness of the arm under her neck; wherever he’s been, Bruce certainly hasn’t been idle. He’s stiff for a minute, but she is too; how do you reclaim intimacy with someone you haven’t seen in years?

Betty relaxes first, throwing an arm over his chest and pressing her face against the curve of his neck. “I missed you,” she whispers, as if saying the words any louder will result in the universe snatching this from them, too.

“ _Betty_ ,” Bruce breathes out, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes. “I thought about you every day. I didn’t think--I didn’t dare think that you--”

She stops him with a finger to his lips. “For such a smart man, you can be such an idiot.”

He smiles faintly at that. She snuggles closer to him, tension leeching out of her as Bruce’s arm, wraps around her, their legs tangling in the blankets.

“I guess it was my turn to find you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“About time, too,” she murmurs back.

The sleep that follows is the best she’s had in years.

 

* * *

 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties!”

Blearily, Betty lifts her head from Bruce’s chest to find Tony leering at them.

“Tony,” Bruce groans, “please shut up.”

“Nope, nope, nope!” Tony croons. “Breakfast is waiting! Pancakes, scones, omelets--Betty, I even got some of those muffins you love--and Bloody Mary’s to celebrate a job well done.”

“A quarter of the city is demolished, Tony,” comes Pepper’s sensible voice.

“Er, a job _mostly_ well done then. Come on, up, up, God knows you could both use some grub--” Tony cuts himself off, expression growing even more devious. “Unless you _can’t_ get up, due to lack of undergarm--”

Pepper appears, yanking him away by his ear. “He can be charming when he wants to, I swear.”

Betty slumps back against Bruce’s chest, laughing. She can feel his own laughter rumbling against her cheek. She lifts her head, offering him a shy smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he answers, brushing her hair back.

“We still have to talk,” Betty says. “About...well, everything.”

“I know,” Bruce agrees.

They sit in silence for a moment, before Betty’s stomach rumbles. Laughing, she stands, turning to offer her hand to him. “But first, food.”

His hand is warm in hers, as familiar as the curve of his smile and the unruliness of his hair.

For once, Betty’s not upset about her inability to let things go.

 

 

* * *

 

Fact: Betty’s first love will always be science, but her greatest love has always been Bruce.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks! Thank you so much for reading (and if you stick around, I might just sneak a little epilogue in here)


End file.
